Sauntering Vaugly Downwards
by kamefootninja
Summary: "I didn't really fall, just. Sauntered vaugly downwards." Those words always stuck wiht Aziraphale, and he's finally decided to ask what Crowley meant


Now they weren't in danger of being caught, Aziraphale found himself at Crowley's apartment more and more often. It was a very common sight, so much so that neither of them questioned it anymore. The angel would let himself in and Crowley would just adapt his lifestyle to fit their new dynamic.

"A long time ago, you told me you 'sauntered vaguely downwards'." The comment was unexpected, even from Aziraphale's own lips, as he looked up from the newspaper he'd suddenly lost interest in, in favour of this new topic. New topic, but something that had been on his mind for a long time now. How long ago was it exactly?

"1862." Crowley commented automatically, as if he could hear the unasked question, only half paying attention to the angels words while he tended to his plants with the water mister. Luckily today they were all behaving themselves, he didn't want Aziraphale having to see him punish the sprouts when they stepped out of line. "What about it?"

"Well. What exactly did you mean by that?" Maybe the angel was reading too much into it, but the demons words seemed a little off, like he'd chosen the words with purpose despite how casually they were said. Of course there had been other things on his mind at the time, what with him asking for 'insurance' in the form of holy water. "You said you _'didn't really fall_'."

Crowley froze as the words sunk in. "I did say that didn't I?" His voice was full of forced nonchalant, trying to appear more relaxed than he was. He remembered, of course. He was a demon, and his memory was rather good considering it was a conversation from over a century ago. And given the rest of the conversation that day, it was one he replayed over and over through the years that had passed. "It doesn't matter. Just a turn of phrase."

It was a lie, and Aziraphale saw right through it. "Crowley… please?" His voice was soft, asking a personal question and offering a friendly smile, to show that he understood if his request was rejected. He wouldn't force him to say anything, it was clearly something that bothered the demon, or he wouldn't have kept it a secret.

Crowley took a deep breath, slowly releasing it while he tried to slow his frantic mind enough to make a rational decision. It was personal, possibly the most personal information he had, considering it was one of his biggest secrets. "It means exactly what I said." His voice was slow and calculating, thinking about each word as he said them. Walking over towards where Aziraphale was sitting in the living room, he leaned against the top of the high backed chair, head cushioned on his arms. He made the conscious decision not to sit down, or get comfortable, making a point to be able to physically leave the conversation if he wanted too.

"Come now, Dear. What do you mean you didn't really fall? You're a demon, a _fallen Angel_. one who…"

"Didn't fall." Crowley cuts the angel off, looking off to the side so he didn't have to gauge his reaction. His pure yellow eyes unfocused slightly, lost in his own thoughts while he decided if he really wanted to do this. He'd never felt so vulnerable than he did right now, but he trusted Aziraphale. He knew that he was safe, in his own home, no threat of heaven or hell on their backs, with someone who he'd trusted Implicitly for over six millennia. But it was still hard for him to willingly let his walls fall, even for a few moments. "I'm not one of _'the fallen_'." That's what hell's army called themselves, an army he had supposed to help lead into battle. "I was an angel. But I never fell."

Aziraphale opened his mouth, and imminently closed it again without making a sound. How was that even possible? "But… but your a demon!" Crowley was very obviously a demon, he even called himself a demon and acted on hells behalf. How could you become a demon without being a fallen Angel, the two should be completely synonymous with each other. "Angels who are cast out of heaven, become fallen."

"Wasn't cast out." Crowley's eyes flicked back to Aziraphale, and the Angel could see the honesty behind those words, leaving no room for further arguments. His slitted pupils flicked to the side again as he considered his words, before coming back as quickly as they left. "I sauntered vaguely downwards…. Of my own accord."

It took a full minute for Aziraphale to take in the weight behind those words. Crowley hadn't fallen at all, he voluntarily walked out of heaven and into hells embrace. He was a demon, but he'd never officially fallen from grace. "But…. Why?" Was this why Crowley had never felt particularly demonic, or how he still appeared and acted as if he had free will, instead of being a pawn of hell like the other demons they'd encountered?

"Fell in with the wrong crowd." The demons almost seemed like he wasn't really thinking about the words anymore, his eyes softened giving a little instinctual hiss, giving away how much he was forgetting himself. Now he'd started there didn't seem much point in stopping. "I'd always asked questionsss, probably wasn't a very good angel looking back on it." Angels were supposed to follow orders blindly after all, completely faith in their superiors and the ineffable plan. "Didn't like how heaven treated their _reject angels_." There was a bitterness to his voice, like the words themselves burned on his tongue.

"Started asking too many questions, got a few warnings to shut my mouth if I knew what was good for me." Crowley scoffed at the memory, seeming to come back to his senses and looked over at the silent Angel sitting across from him.

Aziraphale didn't want to interrupt, knowing how fragile this moment was. Crowley had never opened up like this before, and the slightest hint of pity, sympathy, or just not taking it seriously would make him throw up all his walls and never take them down again, even if Aziraphale wanted to say something he didn't know what he could really say. This was Crowley, his counterpart, someone he'd toed the line between friend and foe until settling into whatever their current relationship was. And only just coming clean that he actually chose to be what he was.

"Never fit in anyway." He continued. It was both terrifying and liberating to talk about. His damnation, something he tried to forget and suppress, finally coming into the light. Finally getting off his chest why he didn't feel like he had a place, not in hell, certainly not in heaven, not even with the humans. He was different. "Then suddenly I was meeting with demons. People I once considered friends before their fall. They tried to _tempt me_ of course, that's what demons do. Being tempted to fall would be understandable after all."

"So, you fell because ... of the other side?" It was clear Aziraphale took that personally. Crowley had been 'fraternizing' long before they met, he had _never_ cared for the distinction between Angels and Demons. Which made sense why he so easily accepted their friendship, despite their opposite alliances and fear of their respective head offices.

"I didn't leave heaven because I was corrupted by evil, if that's what your thinking. I _left,_ because Heaven had all these strict rules, and Demons were free to make their own choices, and ask questions. That's all it took to be a demon in the old days." Crowley frowned, feeling old to say something like 'in the old days', realising that he was most likely a lot older than the angel sat in front of him. "Took _the garden_ for me to realise that _humans_ were the only ones with any real free will. And it's not like I could just become human."

"You've given it a pretty decent shot the last few millennia." Aziraphale smiled, not teasing, because that might make the serpent retreat back into his safe emotional coil. It was soft, and understanding, finally piecing together why Crowley admired humanity so much. "For a demon, you understand humanity implicitly. You have a sort of… symbiosis with them."

Aziraphale was not as naive as some of the other angels, he accepted that humanity needed sin as well as divine intervention. It's what made them able to think for themselves, create, imagine things that they don't truly believe was possible.

"Why'd you think I was so determined not to let it die for the sake of a glorified pissing contest." Crowley's voice was back to its usual playfully crude tone, eyes brightening now he'd gotten the subject of his past off his chest.

"Shall I get us a bottle of wine to celebrate?" Aziraphale smiled, easily falling back into their usual conversations. They had 'celebrated' their victory almost every night for a week, but it's not like they needed an excuse for a pleasant night of drinking. He now knew a little more about his oldest friend, but nothing had changed, he knew Crowley, his past had no reflection on who the demon was on the inside.

"Angel, you read my mind."


End file.
